


Winter solstice

by Cirilla9



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Power Dynamics, Religious Discussion, Religious Guilt, Rituals, Slavery, Yule, as far as these two can go into fluff with each other, heavar, this is amost fluff, top Heahmund bc let him have something from his miserable now life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: The celebration of Yule, Uppsala style.





	Winter solstice

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time into the possible future. Inspired very much by the episode about Uppsala. I have no idea how they celebrated winter solstice. But I connected talk and sex in this one work, which makes me proud, considering that's me.  
> There is too little fics with this pairing and I cannot get them out of my head and I don't have anything to read so I write next fics myself... Please, start writing it too someone, otherwise you're stuck with my fiction.

Savage music resounded all around, beating out a trance inducing rhythm. The sounds echoed in the air, reverberated in the chest, seemingly mixing with one’s very blood until it coursed through one’s body, inseparable from life giving liquid, tainting it. His whole body pulsed with the music, heart beats came in time with drums’ strikes; even breath seem to accommodate to the cadence, speeding up and shallowing.

It wasn’t happening only to his body, all the surroundings – people, fires, trees – seemed to throb in one accord.

Folk around was dancing and laughing, half naked bodies whirled around bonfires in ecstatic moves, followed by flowing unplaited hair. People were losing clothes and all inhibitions as the night went on and wine flood. Dances and runs started to resemble a sexual foreplay, giggles turned into suggestive moans. No one seemed to have any sense of shame or need for privacy.

Heahmund saw a few couples already doing it in plain sight. Crowd around was not only openly watching but sometimes joining the activities. The feast was turning into an orgy. He saw people groping each other freely, nobody held back. Nobody cared for numbers or gender anymore; he saw girl kissing another girl, man touching a man, a woman pleasured by one man while kissed by the other.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Air was heavy with unknown to him herbs’ scent, atmosphere of sensuous carnality overwhelming. And it all had started so innocently, he almost, almost could notice the similarity toward some of Christian celebrations. Now he saw this mockery of religious liturgy for what it was – the excuse to get high and fuck with whoever they wished.

The whole procedure, from the very beginning, was an insult to the only God as the clueless folk worshipped the pagan daemons in His place. Prayers for fertility, Heahmund scoffed in thoughts, sacrifices for good harvest. Their false idols had no power above these things.

Worse however, or rather more immediate threat than the affront toward his faith, was the fact what all these wicked rituals were doing to his own flesh. For all that his spirit rebelled, his body reacted in opposite way. With dismay he realized his cock was ramrod stiff beneath his clothes and that some stifled part of him wished to be a _part_ of it all, not only a bystander. Senses dimmed by weeds, his subconsciousness urged him to go closer, to touch, to feel, to let himself be carried away like everyone else.

He had to get out of here.

Chains had been taken off some time ago but the metal collar had stayed, marking him as a slave, a possession of someone else. Physically he could escape, slip out of the village while everyone was sleeping or engaged with something else. Yet he was far from home and no one would take aboard a collared slave, it would be like stealing from prince Ivar. No smith would take off his choker for the fear of his master’s wrath upon them. Heahmund could have escaped into the woods and live there alone, apart from all the heathens, yet the life of a hermit was never appeasing for him. Food and shelter the Viking village provided turned out to be just as bounding chains as the real ones once were.

He could have also stole some weapon, snatch a hatchet or a sword and use it against his enemies surrounding him. But he wouldn’t defeat the whole village all by himself and raising his hand against such odds would be equal to a death sentence. He would have died a martyr’s death but he didn’t really wish to die just yet and he still held some hope for escaping.

Now his metal collar chafed his neck and his skin felt too hot. The desire for sex wasn’t diminishing in the slightest. If anything, the arousal was growing. He walked straight ahead, pushing the drunken, intoxicated people out of his way, trying to reach the end of the corrupt gathering.

His leg caught, he stumbled and fell down. He cursed and tried to raise himself but got only to his hands and knees as someone pulled him down again. Only then he realized his fall was caused by human hands rather than a sticking out tree root.

\- What the h-

\- Where are you heading that quickly? Are you trying to escape from me, slave?

Ivar’s voice could not be mistaken with anyone’s else, even drunk like now. Heahmund freed himself from the Viking’s clutch and Ivar let him as he drew away only few inches so he could sit leaned onto the nearest tree trunk. The world was spinning a little.

\- I was trying to get out of this nest of snakes.

\- Oh, you don’t like our celebration? One would think you’ll find it more interesting than your Christians muttering in Latin every one of seven days a week.

\- This… this orgy is an offense to the God, not pleasing the higher powers.

\- Really? You think Gods would prefer your dull way of showing them respect? Maybe they like to watch, huh? I like. Do you?

\- God is above such weaknesses, - said Heahmund, ignoring the further part of his drunken companion’s speech. – And there is only One.

\- Whatever. He gave you this body, didn’t he?

Ivar poked him in the chest, like the words weren’t enough to convert his meaning, like all drunk persons feeling the need to explain things exaggeratedly.  He was suddenly very close and Heahmund didn’t remember how he got there.

\- Yes.

\- And you believe it was in his own image and likeliness?

\- Yes, - confirmed Heahmund again, feeling suspicious of some mental trap.

Ivar’s hand still rested onto his chest, stroking it, slipping to where he had loosened the tackles of his shirt earlier to let his skin cool somewhat. Heahmund didn’t think of the lingering touch on the conscious level, his thoughts were too engaged into the dispute. His subconsciousness had nothing against.

\- Yes, - purred Ivar. – So if you’re feeling body urges it is a proof the Gods feel them as well.

His hand slipped under the loosened shirt and pinched one of the erect nipples. Heahmund gasped and grabbed Ivar’s hand but before he managed to do anything more, the Viking was leaning toward his lips and kissing them.

Heahmund opened his mouth to protest but it only allowed Ivar to slip his tongue inside.

This made the bishop rouse from a brief shock. He let go of Ivar’s hand he was still holding, placed his palm on the other’s chest and pushed the boy away. Blue eyes looked hurt for a second before it was covered very quickly by usual arrogance and mockery.

\- No, - said Heahmund, a little too breathlessly for his own liking. – These temptations are the devil’s making who tries to lead us astray.

Ivar scoffed.

\- Then your god is weak. The devil has more power over his believers. Besides, - his hand sneaked down, fast as a strike in a battle and touched Heahmund through his trousers. The wide smile broke on Ivar’s face at the feeling of the other’s erection before Heahmund twisted out of his grip. – Looks to me like the devil already won in your case.

Heahmund pushed the insistent Viking’s hand aside, tossing away the deceptively pleasant heat.

\- This is a constant fight, I will not yield to- - gasped Heahmund as Ivar, ignoring him, stroked his inner tight instead.

Heahmund tried to push the younger man away, Ivar made it hard. Their struggle on the forest floor, shuffling that ended with Ivar beneath him, wriggling to try to get free, two bodies brushing each other – it all brought rather opposite to desirable by Heahmund effect.

\- You fight against nature, not against any demons, - gritted Ivar, grimacing at him from the ground, blue eyes reflecting fire flames and hips still moving distractedly. – It is a lost fight from the very beginning.

Something must have changed in his own expression or grip that he had on Ivar’s wrists for the Viking smirked and shifted his hips even more suggestively.

\- Come here, slave, kiss me, - demanded the spoiled Viking prince. Even though he laid under Heahmund, his voice still held the confidence of someone used to being listened to.

Heahmund should have gone away in that moment. The heathen would have probably punished him later for the lack of obedience. It would have been preferable still to that his addled mind, supported by insistent hardness between his legs, decided to do. He leaned down and kissed the youth.

As their mouths locked, Ivar’s upper body arched beneath him like a satisfied cat would do. For a moment they just laid together, kissing sloppily, bodies moving on their own accord almost, falling in one rhythm with the unending music.

If any one of them would be more sober in that moment, they might consider how it was possible that the musicians still were able to play. Or maybe it was magic of the shortest day in the year working and the Norse spirits took over the instruments as the players laid unconscious drunk with everyone else.

After a while it was not enough, the clothes were getting in the way, obscuring the texture of the flesh. Heahmund wanted to feel bare skin under his hands. He released Ivar’s wrists in favor of opening his clothes and removing them gradually. Viking’s fingers soon joined his, helping him, tearing materials in his impatience.

Soon they were both naked, still rubbing at each other in the delirious rhythm, rutting like animals. Heahmund didn’t care anymore if there were any people around, he was beyond any thinking at all, the body taken over his soul’s will. Heat and friction and wild pulse of music was everything that counted.

He could have come that way if not for the distraction of Ivar’s hand pushing something into his own palm. The boy was saying something. Heahmund forced himself to listen, to make any meaning of his words besides appreciating the view of his lips moving around the sound.

\- Take this, - Ivar was saying and Heahmund looked at the vial of oil in his palm, uncorked already and slicking their both hands. Ivar was muttering still, - take me. I want you to do it. You must do as I say.

Heahmund hesitated for only a moment, put off by the commanding tone but too much into it, too aroused by the attractive body writhing beneath him to retreat now.

As soon as he got his lubricated fingers between Ivar’s legs, however, the Viking clutched at his hair, pulling sharply. Heahmund bared his teeth, hissed in anger and pain. Ivar raised his own head so he could whisper into the bishop’s ear.

\- If you tell about this any of my brothers, I will kill you, - the voice was nothing like what Heahmund was used to while having sex. It was the tone of a mortal threat spoken by an experienced warrior. The grip in his hair tightened. – Do you understand, slave?

\- Yes, - spat Heahmund.

He was released and Ivar fell back down onto his back. Heahmund pushed two fingers into him at once and his vengeance desire was mollified as it was heathen’s turn to wince from discomfort.

\- You can feel that? – asked Heahmund, maliciously feigning surprise.

Ivar sent him a spiteful glance.

\- Of course I- ah, - his anger disappeared and eyes rolled backward in pleasure as Heahmund changed the angle subtly. – Only my legs don’t work, - gritted Ivar, trying to held back any groans. His eyes closed, there was a flush on his cheeks. Despite all the wrongs Heahmund knew he had committed, in that moment he looked innocent.

\- Look at me, - said Heahmund as he finished preparing the youth and replaced his fingers with his cock.

Ivar did and two blue orbs looked up at him, like azure lakes filled with reflection of stars, where fear was fighting with curiosity and determination.

Heahmund felt the pleasant inflow of power at the lost gaze directed at him, the eyes of a boy pretending to be a man. He pushed inside.

Ivar opened his mouth, gasping for air. He tensed but didn’t cry out, didn’t protest or ask for slowing down. He took it as everything in his life, where there was nothing he wouldn’t handle.

The lunatic melody filling everything, the air, the blood, the every breath they drew, dictated the pace which was everything but slow. Ivar panted, digging his nails in Heahmund’s arm.

After a while the youth got used to it enough to join the movements on his own, thrusting his hips in answer to Heahmund’s shoves. They moved in unity, under the command of frantic music. There was sweat on Ivar’s body but the devilish smile returned to his lips. He groaned and then hid his face in Heahmund’s neckline, biting him to stay quite.

Heahmund grunted at the feeling of sharp teeth, hot breath and saliva on his neck just beneath the metal collar. Ivar’s hand sneaked between their bodies to grip his own cock. Few more forceful, almost brutal thrusts and Heahmund was coming, sensing Ivar following him with a shudder.

The bishop withdrew and fell down to the ground next to the young Viking. They were both sweated and panting hard for breath though equally satisfied.

In that moment sexual fulfillment drowned anything else in Heahmund’s mind but he knew that later will come the guilt, the shame and the immense frustration at his own weakness of yielding once more to the carnal pleasures, defying the Lord’s way.

Ivar chuckled lazily at his side.

\- Haha, wooho, we had to repeat it some day, - the Viking declared, turning his face to look at Heahmund with blue eyes glowing. – Whether your god approves that or no, you’re great at it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If someone is curious about the music, the inspiration was: anything Wardruna, anything Danheim and Tumnus' Lullaby (yes, that one last the most).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bloodstream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332000) by [1000lux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000lux/pseuds/1000lux)




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